A Scientist, upset with the thing he and his comrades have created, sets out to try to capture and destroy the creation, as he feels it is a construct and abomination because it lacks personality. However, he ends up finding a way to fix this... And thus Porygon2 is created!
Pokemon to get: Porygon
With a jangle of coins, the young man swept a considerable amount of money into a bag. While it was a large sum, the watcher was more interested in the Pokeball, which was handed over in exchange.
"Have fun with your Porygon," The man at the counter said, stashing the bag under the counter. The storage area was crammed with similar sacks, but again, the watcher chose to ignore them. "We hope to see you again at the Rocket Game Corner."
Turning away, the watcher reached into his pocket. Passing over a lab badge, a pack of cinnamon gum, and a miniature camera and notepad, he finally reached the bottom of the flap of fabric. There, his hand curled around two little spheres, red-and-white twins, in the depths of the pocket.
Soon, Ninetales and Raichu sat beside him. Both seemed happy enough, with the former sitting beside him with constrained excitement, and the latter literally spitting sparks.
"Hey!" The observer called abruptly, after the new owner of the Porygon had left the facility. Though he hadn't always done so in the past, he planned on facing this man fairly, instead of hiding in the shadows.
Turning about, the youth with the Porygon grinned. The shorter, more delicate man in front of him had several Pokemon called out, and to the younger trainer, that meant a battle was in order. "Skitty!" He shouted gleefully, flinging a Pokeball rather carelessly in no particular direction. The little pink kitty Pokemon preened adorably, as its trainer glanced at their opponent.
Feeling more serious about the battle now, Skitty's owner, Reyton, waited nervously for his opponent to say something. The other man, however, merely flicked a solitary strand of white hair back, tucking it in with the mass of darker, black strands on his head, then eyed Skitty. The Pokemon, he noted, was more than ready to evolve. Undoubtedly, the everstone on a ribbon around its neck explained why it had not done so already. Hopes of talking sense into Reyton began to flee from Dove.
"You're restricting it," Dove commented, sweeping his hair back again. It wasn't very unruly looking, but somehow, the limp strands always managed to fall in his way.
"I like Skitty the way she is," Reyton said, brushing him off, "Kimmi, Body slam!" he announced next, getting impatient.
No target had been given, but none was needed. A beautiful roar of red and orange burst from Ninetales' mouth, the smell of herbs accompanying it. The diet of the fox types, when composed of fruits, veggies, and berries, led to incense-like flames, rather than the usual sulfur ones. It was, however, still a strong flame as far as power went, enough to bowl Skitty over. Enough to make sure it stayed down.
With a grim look creeping over his face, Skitty's trainer recalled his Pokemon, grinding his teeth. "Altaria!" He called defiantly, and the Pokemon leapt from its Pokeball as though shot from a cannon.
This time, however, Dove spotted a different problem. The Altaria had been pushed to evolve too quickly, before it was ready. It was unused to fighting in its new form, and in the awkward stage of getting used to a new body it had not expected. In fact, the first attack it tried, Dragonbreath, failed entirely. The second, Sky Attack, failed as well, though more terribly. Altaria not only missed Ninetales entirely, but it also could not control its own descent. The Pokemon spiralled out of control, and was forced to pull up short several times to try to regain control, at the expense of speed. Finally, it simply gave up. Ninetales spat a little puff of smoke at it, but otherwise ignored it.
My hands have yet to build a village, have yet to find water in the barren desert, have yet to plant a flower, and I have yet to find the path that leads me... I have not loved enough, but the wind and the sun are still on my face.
I have yet to sow green fields, yet to raise a city, yet to plant a grapevine on each chalky hill... There is so much to build and so much to be, and my love is just beginning.